


Divine

by Kate_Reid



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alderaan, Canon Compliant, F/M, Family, Gen, Holidays, Nostalgia, Traditions, Winter Solstice, the longest night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 12:55:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21635026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Reid/pseuds/Kate_Reid
Summary: I'm so glad to be part of the Star Wars Advent Calendar!Moodboard by the inimitable WinglessOne:
Relationships: Ben Solo & Han Solo, Kylo Ren/Rey, Leia Organa & Ben Solo, Leia Organa & Ben Solo & Han Solo, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Winter Celchu & Leia Organa
Comments: 12
Kudos: 35





	1. Tonight There Is Fever In My Veins

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so glad to be part of the Star Wars Advent Calendar!
> 
> Moodboard by the inimitable WinglessOne:
> 
>   
  


Han’s eyes are drawn to it as soon as he enters the bedroom. It’s small and silver--metallic, but delicate. And it’s a very welcome sight on Leia’s bedside table, because _its_ presence means _hers_.

As long as he’s known her, the little travel clock has been next to wherever she’s sleeping, whether it was a rickety cot in a drafty hangar on Hoth, a bunk on the Falcon, an absurdly soft bed on a diplomatic jaunt . . . or their bed here in the Hanna City apartment. 

So, she wasn’t here now, but would be back later. Seeing the clock there was as good as a message from Leia telling him she’d be here tonight.

*******

_ He’d wondered about it even as he grew accustomed to seeing it. The sight of Leia sleeping rough in some godforsaken Rebel base was a striking one. She was as beautiful as always, dressed in sturdy, rugged clothing, blaster within easy reach . . . and the pretty little clock next to it.  _

_ Han hadn’t asked her any questions. It was clearly quite a valuable piece, but somehow, he got a sense that making a princess joke about it would be the wrong thing to do.  _

_ Not long after Endor, his suspicions had been confirmed. One night on the Falcon, lounging in slightly drowsy afterglow, Leia’s eyes had fallen on it, and she'd suddenly started talking.  _

_ The clock was one of a kind, she said. Bail and Breha had it specially made and presented it to her the night before she left for her first session as an Imperial Senator. Behind the exquisite face of the clock was a complex system of tiny gears and coils surrounding a small crystal, mined from the rocks of Alderaan. It folded neatly into a flat case, engraved on one side with her initials and on the other with a detailed rendering of Appenza Peak. The clock’s mechanics never needed recalibration--it would always keep precise time.  _

_ Though she took it everywhere she went, she never reset it to local time. She had fancy chronos for that. _

_ The little silver travel clock would forever display the time and date as they would have been at the Royal Palace in Aldera. _

*******

Han surfaces from his memories, smiling at the thought of Leia. She’ll be surprised when she gets back--based on his estimate of how long the job would take, she wouldn’t be expecting him for another few days. He should get himself cleaned up, and maybe they can have a nice dinner at the little cafe on their block.

He strips out of his clothes. Because he doesn’t want Leia to be mad at him before she even sees him, he makes sure not to leave anything on the floor, instead putting it all in the hamper that the laundry droid will come to collect. Han’s mood is good enough that he starts singing as he grabs a towel and turns on the shower. 

*******

Leia enters the apartment cautiously; she thought she’d heard movement inside as she approached the door. She’s closed the door behind herself and is just about to draw her blaster when the chorus of a Corellian folk song rings out from behind a closed door, in a baritone that’s more enthusiastic than skillful. 

She smiles and shakes her head fondly while she moves through the rooms as quietly as possible, enjoying the loud, questionably tuneful version of a song that promises the end of the singer’s days as a wild rover. After depositing her bag in the room designated as her office, she enters the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed, just listening. She’s idly considering stripping naked and arranging herself enticingly on the bed when she notices her clock and draws in a sharp breath. 

*******

_ She remembered her parents presenting her with a silver-wrapped package, remembered opening a velvet box, remembered gently lifting the clock out and marveling at the intricate engraving on the outside of the closed case, remembered releasing the catch that held the case shut, remembered exclaiming over the beautiful face of the clock. And now, most of all, she remembered her parents’ affectionate words when she thanked them for the lovely gift.  _

_ Bail said it was so she’d always know what time it was at home. Breha had joked that it was so Leia wouldn’t comm them at some ridiculous hour while they were trying to sleep. _

_ It had always been with her since then, and had become one of the very few tangible remnants of Alderaan that she owned.  _

*******

Finally, she exhales. She wasn’t prepared for this, but there was the date on her clock, down to the very second. How long she simply sits and stares at those numbers, she doesn’t know. This date had come a few times since the destruction of her home, but she’d been too damn busy for it to register; instead, she’d noticed days later. Every time that had happened, she’d taken it in her stride and shoved the twinge down deep to reside among the many things she’d deal with later. “Later,” though, was always tomorrow and beyond. One day, she’d unpack everything, giving each component of her pain its turn.

But now, she can’t simply push it off. She’s not trying to help run an insurrection, fight a war, or keep a bunch of beings from getting killed. Negotiations are going as well as they can be, her life is fairly stable, and she’s spending it with a man she loves--loves  _ so  _ much,  _ so  _ fiercely, and  _ so  _ exasperatedly.

There is the date, right there before her eyes, and she doesn’t know what to do. Her mind and her heart gang up on her, and they’re no help. If anyone asks her later, Leia will claim that she was conspired against, was coerced, had no choice but to obey. Her body gives in to her mind and her heart and betrays her, sending tears flowing from her eyes.

And that’s why, when Han comes out of the shower, his joy at seeing his princess is immediately dulled by the fact that he knows she’s been crying.

Her back is to him, but when she looks up at the sound of him entering the bedroom, the red around her eyes tells tales. Immediately, he tenses, ready to end each of those tales with several blaster bolts.

Leia sees so many questions in his eyes as they all fight each other to be the first out of his mouth. She’s got a good idea of what they’ll be once they get themselves into order--” What’s wrong?” “Who did this?” “Where can I find them?” The murder in Han’s eyes tells her all she needs to know. 

She heads him off at the pass. “I just . . . remembered something. It’s nobody’s fault,” she says quietly. “You may stand down, sir; my honor has not been impugned,” she tries to joke.

Han chooses to reward her feeble attempt at humor; he grins and relaxes only a fraction, sitting right beside her on the bed. “It’s easy, then; wouldn’t want to have to do anything that might increase the price on my head,” he says, his voice rumbling through her as he gathers her close. 

The warmth of his body and the fresh scent of his clean skin comfort Leia--they’re familiar by now. She uses those sensations to anchor herself as she begins to speak. 

“Tomorrow--or in several hours, I suppose; the days don’t quite match up--is an Alderaanian holiday. I just noticed when I saw my clock. Soon, it’ll be the Longest Night.” Just saying the day’s name out loud soothes her a bit, gives her the strength to continue. “It was always my favorite holiday. We’d light candles and ring bells.”

Han’s quietly inquisitive expression bids her to continue. “So--the Longest Night. It’s the day with the fewest hours of daylight--an accident of our orbit and location, I guess. Anyway, we’d spend almost the entire night outside, holding candles, ringing bells, and singing songs. Alderaanian folklore says that it originated with the Killiks--”

“Wait a minute!” Han had been so determined not to interrupt her explanation, but that one word--_Killiks_\--so surprises him that he can’t help himself. “The Killiks--Corellian lore says that they might have been instrumental in the formation of Centerpoint?”

Leia chuckles at that. _There_ was something she hadn’t anticipated. She hadn’t the heart to discourage his curiosity about his own home system--one he’d professed not to care about so many times, even as she could _feel_ his longing for home and his desire to lock those feelings into a vault similar to the one in which she held her own longing. It hadn’t ever occurred to her that their home planets shared at least one antecedent.

Han doesn’t like to talk about it with Leia--to him, it feels wrong to wax nostalgic to her about Corellia, which is still whole, extant, and prominent on every starmap. He doesn’t feel he should be permitted the luxury of missing home. His home is still a physical place he could return to whenever he wanted, even if it was at the peril of being snatched up by CorSec, whose warrants never expired. 

But the risk of arrest strikes him as trivial, really. If he manages to land himself a little outside Coronet City--and he knows _exactly _where he’d do it--he’ll have the chance to gulp in all the Corellian air he wants before anyone comes for him. His princess has nothing like that. There’s nothing but an asteroid field for her to claim. 

Her royalty has no realm.

Han apologizes and bids her to continue.

Leia caresses his shoulder softly by way of acknowledgement, then continues. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure of the origins--there are several legendary explanations.” Han feels her shrug. “Anyway, though. It’s during the coldest season. We always had loads of people come in for the occasion. All the fireplaces were lit. We always turned off all of the artificial lights, and there were only candles to light the way. 

“The Longest Night was a celebration of both darkness and light, if that makes any sense. Nature gave us darkness, and we respected that darkness by not fighting it with unnatural light. We lit ourselves naturally--with fire. And we’d walk out into the darkness with nothing but bells and flames to find each other.

“We respected the light by carrying it in its most elemental form. The firelight and the chimes represented hope. Even at the darkest time, we would always use what we had to come together. The Longest Night always gave way to morning, and then the next night was shorter. Then the next was shorter after that.”

“And so it’s always getting lighter, even after the longest night,” Han says softly; Leia isn’t even sure she was meant to hear it.

She agrees, though. “There’s always new hope, even at the darkest moment,” she murmurs against his chest.   


  



	2. To Celebrate the Mystery

The next time, Han isn’t caught off guard. He sneaks furtive glances at Leia’s clock when she’s home, then sets a secret chrono of his own. He gets deep into a bunch of Holonet searches, taking in all the information he can, so that when the date draws near, a bit of him already subconsciously runs on Alderaanian time. He finds the nearest suitable planet, then employs a little sweet talk and a large number of credits to make the place perfect.

On some flimsy pretext, he lures her into the  _ Falcon _ , makes a short hyperspace jump, lands gently at a certain set of coordinates, then escorts her out of the ship.

Leia gasps as he helps her off the final step of the  _ Falcon’s _ ramp. They’re in pitch-black night, but this little area is illuminated by many, many candles and a blazing fire pit. With her hand in his, Han leads her to a comfortable chair near the fire. 

She sighs as she sinks into the chair. “You know you’re gonna have to haul me out of this, don’t you? My center of gravity is utterly kriffed these days.” Leia pats her baby bump gently.

The fond exasperation in her voice warms Han’s heart. He’d only ever heard her use that tone for him, and now it seems that she’s expanded it to include their child, who currently exists only as an inconvenience to her balance.

“Of course,” he replies with a grin. “Would you like a beverage, Princess?” he offers. “We have the hot spiced punch, which I’ve been assured was made just like you’re used to, but we also have some fizz if you’re not feeling up to that.”

Leia’s eyes mist over. She hadn’t had the traditional warm drink since the last time she was at home for the Longest Night, and suddenly she wants the steaming mug in her hands more than anything. She tells Han so, and she’s holding a hot cup within seconds. 

The aroma wafting from the punch is incredible, and it’s _perfect_. Fleetingly, she remembers reading something that said scent memories tend to be the strongest. It’s definitely true now. The smell sends her back to the Royal Palace, back to her parents, and back to every Longest Night she can remember. 

She takes a small sip, and then the tears finally fall. “What--what did you _do?_” she asks. “This is _exactly_ it.”

Even when Leia’s crying is happy, Han feels a bit jittery and out of his element. “Well, ah, that’s good,” he says, failing at subtlety as badly as he always does.

Leia takes another sip and decides she will _not_ let him off easy. “No, seriously--what did you _do?_ There’s an old saying that you can ask ten Alderaanians for their Longest Night recipes and get twelve answers. This wasn’t just chance.”

Han avoids her eyes, running a hand through his hair like he always does when he’s trying to figure out an excuse for something. When he catches her eye again, she’s still got him pinned with the same gaze that sees too much.

“I asked Winter.” Han’s voice is tiny enough to be nearly imperceptible. 

Leia hears him, though, and immediately starts to laugh. Of _course_ dear Winter would know the exact recipe that had been used at the Palace. Winter’s eidetic memory, after all, is what makes her an excellent aide and Chief of Staff. And her utterly impenetrable sabacc face is what makes her assistance invaluable in the delicate dance of diplomacy. Leia had never once sensed Winter’s deception. Though hormones could be blamed for her failure to notice, she was much more inclined to attribute it to Winter’s skills.

“Oh, my love,” she sighs, once her laughter has subsided. “You know, it’s bad form to drink this alone. Go get yourself a cup.”

Han does, and once he returns, he sits in the chair right next to hers. He leans back and takes a tentative sip. Spice and sweetness fill his senses immediately. A tart little kick in the drink makes everything interesting.

He’s so busy savoring the drink that he doesn’t notice Leia watching him intently and smiling when he appears to enjoy it. His eyes only come back to her when she speaks again.

“So, I think your son likes this, too.” She grins, relieved at the fact that their baby hasn’t objected and is letting her enjoy this. “It’s customary to make an offering to the Longest Night, you know. Sometimes, it’s something that burns in the fire. But most times, it’s a libation like this.” She holds up her mug. Han does the same. “On the Longest Night, we respect the darkness, but we anticipate the light. The light will show the way--whether the brightness of a star, the blaze of a bonfire, or the tiny flare of a loved one’s candle. We may feel alone in the darkness, but we are mighty as we ring our bells together and raise our torches to lead one another.” Leia lifts the cup that she already holds aloft. “Hail the Longest Night.”

Han echoes her salute, then follows her actions with a deep draught. His vision blurs, then clears as he feels moisture roll over his cheeks. He hadn’t expected to be so deeply affected by her words.

Tenderly, Leia wipes his tears away, though she doesn’t comment on them. “Thank you, Han. Thank you for doing this for me.”

Han blushes and puts on his “aw shucks” face. Eager to change the subject, he leans toward her and kisses her gently. 

She knows exactly what he’s doing, but doesn’t tell him.

“Did you want some food?” he asks. “I have the little sweet biscuits that Winter said we needed, but I also have some sandwiches if you’re actually hungry.”

Leia laughs again. “Thank you for knowing I’d want real food. I’d like a sandwich, please, but I’m sure I’ll want some biscuits after that. Or your son will, anyway.”

“He knows what he’s about, then. I sampled the biscuits until Winter chased me away. They’re delicious.” Han passes her a wrapped sandwich and grins as he thinks of _his son._ There have been many scans and regular checkups, and mother and baby are as healthy as can be. But before they’d seen any doctor, Leia had told him that he would soon have a son. 

Apparently, as soon as she’d suspected she might be pregnant, she’d felt a presence in the Force, one that was always with her, one that reached out to seek her love. The little spark had felt male to her, and she’d been proven right when Dr. Kalonia showed Leia and Han their baby on the screen in the exam room.

Han hadn’t cared whether their baby was assigned male or female at birth. As long as the child was born healthy, it didn’t matter. A little being to love, one who came from him and his Princess? That was the best thing he’d heard in a long time. 

After Qi’ra, he’d resigned himself to a life roaming the galaxy with the people he picked up during his travels. Where would he ever find a woman as tough, as smart, and as beautiful?

As it happened, the joke was on him, and such women weren’t as rare as he’d thought.

Entirely by accident, he’d found a woman who’d displayed intelligence and courage beyond compare, one who lacked any qualms about standing up to authority, one who’d saved his sorry hide more than once. 

And now, they were to have a child. A princess and a guy like him, indeed.

He hadn’t known that he wanted fatherhood so much until it was within his grasp. Suddenly, he found himself piloting the _Falcon_ and imagining a tiny child on his lap. Chewie had taken to talking about the “cub,” which Han had no idea how to discuss at all.

Once he’s satisfied that Leia is warm and comfortable enough as she munches her sandwich, he takes a sandwich for himself, warmed by the fire and so happy. 

They finish their food, and Han pours them each another cup of hot punch. He hands her one of the bells he’s set aside, then listens attentively as she teaches him the chants that go along with the ringing of the bells. The songs are lively, hopeful, and fun to sing. 

When she’s flushed and breathless from the songs, he sets the tray of biscuits between them. They’re cut out in all different shapes and decorated in all different colors. When Leia sees them, she confirms that they look perfect, and when she picks one up and takes a bite, she discovers they’re just as _right_ as the punch. Really, she’d expected nothing less after she found out about Winter’s involvement, but her mind is still blown by the care Han has taken to make sure everything is authentic. She suddenly realizes that he’s been watching her intently while she eats the biscuit.

“These are perfect, too,” she tells him. His body immediately sags with relief. “Please remind me to do something nice for Winter soon.”

Han grins. “Of course, Your Highness,” he replies, making an executive decision to keep mum about having already given Leia’s Chief of Staff this holiday off to spend with her Alderaanian pilot boyfriend. Tycho is good people, just as Winter is. He sees no harm in them receiving an extra treat from Leia.

“And I think our boy likes them, too.” Leia leans back, giving her bump a fond rub and sighing contentedly.

“We’ve started him off right, then.” Han is still entirely too pleased that Leia is happy with this whole setup. As far as he’s concerned, Winter may name her price.

“We have to, don’t we?” says Leia quietly. Han had loved seeing her laugh as she teased him, then full of joy as she experienced the whole scene, tasted the food and drink, and led him in the bell chants, but this pensive expression wasn’t something he was prepared for.

“Well, ah, of course,” Han is definitely on board with starting their son off right.

“He _is_ a Crown Prince of Alderaan.” Her tone is solemn, wistful, and a little sad. But just as Han is about to offer comic relief, her face brightens and she gives him a mischievous grin. “But he also _must_ learn all of those Corellian songs you like.”

  



	3. This Time Will Be the Best

This isn’t Ben’s first Longest Night, but it’s the first one he understands enough to participate in. He’s five now, and he never tires of hearing the story of his parents’ first Longest Night together. He’d been there, too, but he’d still been inside his mom.

His mom is the main reason he’s so excited. For the past several nights at bedtime, she’s been reading him lots of Longest Night stories. The tales he likes best, though, are from her own memories of celebrating the holiday at the Royal Palace, with Grandma Breha and Grandpa Bail. Between stories, she teaches him the bell carols--special songs that you sing on the Longest Night while ringing your bell by the fire. 

Ben had also spent a fun afternoon in the kitchen with Aunt Winter and Uncle Tycho, baking dozens upon dozens of small biscuits. Aunt Winter had let him press cutters into the dough to make all kinds of different little shapes. That had been fun. And once they were cut out, he’d gotten to sit at the table with Uncle Tycho, sprinkling colorful bits of sugar over the biscuits on the trays. 

Once the biscuits had baked and sat cooling on the counter, Winter had allowed him to pick out only one to taste. Ben chose one shaped like a bell, decorated with red sugar. The warm biscuit was delicious, and though he couldn’t have another one right now, it was his understanding that he would be allowed several on the Longest Night. 

Leia hadn’t been able to bake biscuits with Ben--she’d had a committee meeting she couldn’t miss, but now she smiles and bends to give her son a huge hug when Winter brings him to her door. 

When she straightens back up, Winter hands her a box that’s deceptively heavy for its size. “Ben is a natural baker,” Winter reports. “He did very well. And he got to taste one biscuit and has already informed me that they are now his favorite food.” She winks at Leia.

Leia shakes her head and smiles as she herds Ben past her into their apartment. “Thank you, Winter. I appreciate this so much.” She gestures toward the box of biscuits. “Joyous Night to you and Tycho.”

“Of course.” Winter smiles back. “Joyous Night to you and Han.”

*******

_"And it’s no, nay, never! _

_ No, nay, never no more!  _

_ Will I play the wild rover? _

_No, never, no more!”_

They’re riding in the  _ Falcon _ . Han sits in the pilot chair with Ben on his lap, his small hands over his father’s as they steer the freighter together--both singing at the top of their lungs.

Leia is used to this by now, so she only sighs and rolls her eyes for show, even as she claps along to the chorus with a wide smile on her face. 

She’s got only herself to blame, after all. On their first Longest Night, Han had promised to help her raise Ben with the Alderaanian traditions, and she’d flippantly told him that Ben must also learn the Corellian folk songs that Han so enjoyed singing. Apparently, Han had taken her at her word, and now, here they are with her five-year-old son singing lustily about having spent all his money on alcohol.

Han has repeatedly tried to explain to her that the two best times to sing are flying and bathing. She’s long conceded that loud, questionably appropriate choruses are the price of Han’s turn at bathtime. Indeed, even before Ben was a twinkle in either of their eyes, she’d known that Han liked to sing while he piloted. This was really just the natural conclusion of that.

Luckily, the trip was a short one, and Leia hoped that that meant that Ben would only internalize a _few_ unhealthy ideas about drinking or money or life in general. 

Finally, after blessedly few objectionable songs, they landed. This was the same place Han had surprised her with their very first Longest Night celebration, and they’d been coming here since. Unfortunately, Leia was on her guard and didn’t feel like she could relax entirely. 

One year, an enterprising sludgenews reporter had been able to hide in a strategic location, and there had been several holos taken from very far away, then disseminated across the galaxy--pictures of Leia holding a swaddled Ben had run with lurid headlines of _Alderaanian Royal Baby_ and _New Galactic Royalty_ and _Baby Organa Solo Exclusive!!!!_

Leia had been dismayed, and Han had told her not to worry. He’d reassured her every time, and she never felt fully at ease, but no images had ever gotten out again. She decided she did not want to know what Han had done and that it was in her best interests as a Senator to have plausible deniability.

But now, they’re disembarking from the _Falcon_ and Han is carrying Ben, who’s wearing a warm little hat that also obscures his face.

This place is a tradition now, and they’re welcome guests every year, under the deep, dark velvety sky. This little planet is a signatory to all of the treaties that hold the New Republic together. Leia has met their elected rulers, who are kind beings overjoyed by the fact that someone with her influence and high profile has decided to spend such an important holiday on their planet.

Ben is oblivious to all of this, of course. His parents aren’t, though. Both Leia and Han are deeply affected by their son’s exclamation of wonder as he sees the hundreds of flickering candles arranged around the bright bonfire. 

He’s been present at every single Longest Night since his birth (and even his conception), but this is the first time he’ll truly experience the holiday. Ben knows the legends and the songs, and he’s eagerly waiting to put his new knowledge into practice. 

Han sets him down, after a whispered warning to _be careful_ of the fire. 

Ben can’t believe he’s actually here now. There’s been such a buildup to it that he’s almost not sure what to do with himself. What he does know is that he needs to watch out for all the flames and that his parents are trusting him to be safe and responsible. So, he doesn’t run toward the fire when his dad sets him down and gives him the freedom of his feet. Instead, he walks quickly but determinedly to the furniture set up right next to the big fire. He climbs up onto the surprisingly soft chair and simply waits. Why adults have to move so slowly, he’ll never know. However, his goals for tonight include eating lots of biscuits and singing lots of songs. Ben has learned enough by now to know that sitting still and quiet is the shortest way to what he wants.

Leia’s heart warms when she sees Ben waiting patiently. Immediately, she goes to sit beside her son, slipping an arm around him, lifting his hat to drop a soft kiss on his thick, dark hair. Han joins them soon. He carefully hands Leia a large mug full of hot spiced punch, then gives Ben a tiny cup before sitting down with his own mug.

“Is everyone ready?” Leia asks, waiting for assent before raising her mug toward the sky. Once Ben and Han follow suit, she gives the same toast she’s given since the first Longest Night she’d spent here with Han.

“Hail the Longest Night,” her husband and her son echo the final words of the toast.

Ben sips from his little mug at the same time his parents do. He feels so grown up, like he’s part of something special. The punch warms him from the inside as he gazes into the fire and remembers the story his mom had told him about the first time she’d been allowed to toast with her parents. 

The rest of the evening exceeds even Ben’s wildest expectations. 

_So. Many. Biscuits._

When it’s time to sing, he’s handed his very own bell. He recognizes it from a couple holos--it was a gift from Aunt Winter and Uncle Tycho when he was born. But he doesn’t remember seeing it in person. Before they start singing, his mom shows him where his name and date of birth are engraved on the shiny silver. He rings it proudly as their voices rise in the cool air of the dark night, over the blazing flames and into the sky.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK AT THIS BEAUTIFUL ART GIFTED TO ME BY THE INCREDIBLE [SITUATION_NORMAL](https://archiveofourown.org/users/situation_normal/pseuds/situation_normal)  

> 
>   
  



	4. Where Joy Should Reign

Rey is thoroughly enchanted by the story of the Longest Night as soon as Ben explains it to her. How many nights had she spent feeling so small, staring out into the endless darkness of the desert? It would be silly to say that Rey was afraid of the dark--her continued existence put paid to that notion--but it wouldn’t be far off the truth to comment that nighttime hadn’t been her favorite thing for quite a while.

Ben senses what she’s not saying; not because he’s dipped into her thoughts, but because he knows her. The idea of facing the darkness on its own level is one that he knows will make sense to her; the thought of meeting the darkness with fire will appeal to her, and the concept of coming at the darkness with warm beverages and food will please her. 

Rey is happy to let Ben take her hand and lead her outside. This is a place that she’s already come to love more than any other in the galaxy--this little cabin on New Alderaan. She’s not yet seen all the seasons here, but that will come over time. Already, they’ve slipped into their familiar groove, here among the trees whose shade strips them of their names and titles, revealing their true selves. This time, they share the green bedroom without a word, even though it’s the smaller of the two, because it’s the one Rey likes. Green is her favorite color, of course.

Ben has a weakness for the sunshine in her eyes, especially during these short winter days when light is at a premium. This is why he sighs with relief while he lowers her into the soft seat near the fire. Anticipation lights her smile, brightening it to an improbable level, forcing a sigh from his chest as he sits down next to her and pulls a soft blanket over their laps. 

Rey’s hands wrap around the mug Ben has handed her, bringing it closer to her face so that she can inhale the aromatic steam from the hot punch.

Ben has his own mug in hand, gripping it by the handle, then raising it over his head. “On the Longest Night, we respect the darkness, but we anticipate the light. The light will show the way--whether the brightness of a star, the blaze of a bonfire, or the tiny flare of a loved one’s candle. We may feel alone in the darkness, but we are mighty as we ring our bells together and raise our torches to lead one another. Hail the Longest Night.”

“Hail the Longest Night,” Rey repeats with him, then sips from her mug.

It’s hot and spicy and wonderful as it slides down her throat. The warmth of the punch joins the warmth of Ben at her side, the warmth of the blanket over her, and the warmth of the fire before her.

Everything is much softer than Ben remembers or thinks he deserves--Rey’s warm breath on his neck, the syncopated sensation of her heartbeat as he holds her as close as he can, the plush fiber of the blanket covering them, the heat radiating from the bonfire. He’s inherited his father’s strong aversion to the odds, but he’d still stake a substantial bet that _this _was nowhere near anything she’d anticipated.

This time, Leia has been kind enough to supply him with the comm number for the concierge service, so he has no trouble procuring the necessary hot punch, biscuits, and bells.

Rey loves the little biscuits, of course. Cut in assorted shapes and decorated in different colors, they’re adorable and so tasty. Their rich, sweet flavor is a nice complement to the spicy tartness of the punch. 

She nibbles a star-shaped biscuit and listens intently as Ben tells stories of the Longest Nights he’s celebrated, including his very first one. The idea of Han setting up a celebration for Leia and little unborn Ben warms Rey’s heart. Both Ben’s parents’ voices come through in his telling--it’s apparent that he’s heard the story many, many times from both Leia and Han. 

Warm and happy, her contentment fueled by the biscuits, by the punch, and by the large, awkward man haltingly sharing himself with her, Rey smiles eagerly up at Ben when he hands her a bell and starts to teach her the songs meant to be sung as they ring them. 

Rey’s enthusiasm warms Ben’s heart. He teaches her the songs by singing a line, then having her repeat it. She echoes him, then they sing together, bells pealing into the night.

Together, they hail the darkness. Together, they honor the light that pierces it. Together, they choose to move forward as one. 

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, as always, to my reading team, Flawless_Sorcerer_Supreme. situation_normal, and WinglessOne. Once again, this never would have been finished without you.
> 
> You may now stop reading if you don't care about my natterings. I won't be mad.
> 
> This story was inspired by Melissa Etheridge's song, ["O Night Divine."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IayYVBjVcQM)  
  
This song is, of course, based on "O Holy Night," which is my absolute favorite Christmas song. I was raised Catholic, but am not religious. This is why I tell people they can send me a card for any holiday they'd like--I'm an agnostic who hedges her bets. 😉 The main remnants of my Catholic upbringing are my everlasting guilt and my irrational love of fish sticks. Anyway, though! "O Holy Night" has always been my favorite. It's a gorgeous melody and really fun to sing, if you enjoy that sort of thing. My favorite thing about it, though, is the abolitionist verse. Read about it [here](https://medium.com/@albertnerenberg_66378/the-banned-carol-why-o-holy-night-is-actually-magic-f7b79f3ac2f8)
> 
> The "Corellian" folk song Han shower-sings and later sings with Ben is ["The Wild Rover."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afO3IQX2Qnc) This version is by the Pogues.
> 
> Also, because this is my fic, I'm contractually obligated to let you know that no a-ha songs were harmed during its creation, but these definitely helped (and provided chapter titles):
> 
> ["A Kind of Christmas Card,"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n6FutHZaeag) by Morten Harket
> 
> ["Dark Is The Night For All,"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G1ZgER4uf3A) by a-ha
> 
> ["Stay On These Roads,"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nWey1DBAchM) by a-ha
> 
> [Come say hi to me wherever you'd like!](https://linktr.ee/stainlessstyled)


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